


Two Sides of the Tracks

by Hargrove85



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove-centric, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bruiser Billy Hargrove, Character Death, Child Abuse, Gay Billy Hargrove, Heir Steve Harrington, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mafia AU, More Tags will be posted as the story progresses, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Runaway, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Suicide, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-24 07:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hargrove85/pseuds/Hargrove85
Summary: In Hawkins, Indiana, there are two sides of town, each territory run and protected by their respective mafias. There are the Harringtons and the Kings. The Harringtons have a son. His name is Steve, the Heir to their family business. And all he wants is a normal life. The moment he can, he’s escaping Hawkins and moving far, far away. He hated the bloodshed, the fighting, the rivalry… all of it. But the ruling families were not going to stop. The Harringtons have control of the east, and the Kings the west. The sides separated by a railway track that split the town perfectly in half. The Kings are much more violent than the Harringtons, especially with a bruiser like Billy fucking Hargrove. Billy Hargrove takes joy in getting paid to beat the shit out of people. When he is ordered to do the King’s dirty work and get close to the Harringtons’ son, he believed it to be a quick job. Something he could finish in a few days. But… Fate has other things planned for the two teens trapped in a bad blood feud.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Original Character(s), Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Steve Harrington & Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Blood Means Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! This is my first fic that I am publishing to the internet so please be kind! In the first chapter there is a suicide and it will be referenced occasionally throughout the story. Please read the tags and enjoy! I'd love to hear y'all's feedback.
> 
> Big thank you to my boyfriend, @Simply_Reckless, for beta reading my work <3

The Hargrove Family was not well off by any means. Neil Hargrove, the father of the home, worked two jobs to put food on the table for his only son and wife. It was good at the start. His son, William, remembers when his dad used to pat him on the head and let him ride on his shoulders. But he also remembers when his father started having a bottle of beer a night. One bottle turned into two. Two turned into five. And it just continued to slip down the slope. William remembers the night he heard glass shatter and his mother’s sobbing. He remembers peeking into the kitchen and seeing his father hitting his mother. He remembers running to aid his mother only to get slammed into the counter face first. His mother immediately scooped him up and ran to her bedroom, cradling a hurt and crying William, blood running from a cut on his head and bruises blooming on his delicate skin. They cried together that night…

William was seven.

Neil Hargrove grew more violent. His calloused hands often laid blows on William’s mother, only landing on William when he intervened or got in trouble at school. His mother would cry a lot. And William would hug her, nuzzling close in hopes of comforting her. Sometimes she would smile down at him, petting his blonde curls and giving a small giggle at the goofy faces William would try to make. His mother always made funny faces when he was sad. 

Things got worse and worse. Neil lost his job at the office he was working in when William was ten. He ended up in a factory that made cars. He came home each evening tired and in pain. He always took a bottle of his alcohol, moving from beer to stronger booze. By the end of the night, Neil would be thoroughly drunk and violent. William grew to be a light sleeper. Whenever he heard the cap of his father’s bottle hit the floor, he was rushing to his mother’s room to crawl into her arms.

‘To protect her.’ He told himself.

One night, when William was twelve, he heard the oh-so familiar sound of the bottle cap clattering to the hardwood floor. He scrambled to his mother’s room as he always did. But instead of a bed with the familiar, curled up form of his sweet mom, it is empty. The sheets are rumpled so she has been in bed… or just had not made it this morning. 

“Mama…?” William whimpered softly. He shuddered as he gazed around the too empty room. That was when he heard a creak in the closet. He shuffled over, thinking his mother had taken refuge inside. “Mom?” He opened the door and stared in horror. He screamed as tears rushed down his face at the sight of his mother’s bruised neck and blank eyes. “Mom! Mom!” He cried. He heard his father’s boots stamping across the floor towards the room. Light from the hallway spilled into the room. 

“What the hell are you screamin’ about, brat?” Neil slurred out before his eyes lifted to see his wife, hanging in his closet. His hands trembled violently, tears springing to his eyes. He grabbed William and moved him away from the body, for the first time, his touch not full of malice but protection. He held William, carrying him out of the room and sat him on the couch. “S-Stay here.” He stammered. “Don’t-Don’t fucking move from that spot.” William could hear his father’s voice shaking. Neil returned to his bedroom and wailed as he held his wife’s corpse

The funeral was small and informal, the California sun beating down on the tragic event, chilled winter wind causing him to shudder. William stared at the box his mother was in, shaking under his father’s hand that gripped his shoulders. When William and Neil returned home, his father returned to the bottle, nursing it, holding it as if it were his love. William could hear his father talk to himself, crying into his glass of golden liquid. He futilly hoped that Neil would no longer lay hands on others, his mother’s death snapping him out of it.

That did not happen.

It got worse. So much worse...

“William!” His father screamed through his door, the boom of his voice practically making his bones vibrate awake. The boy sat up quickly in bed, scrambling out of the entanglement of his sheets to run to the door, unlocking the knob and opening it. He rubbed his eyes clear of the sleep crusties.

“I’m up, I’m up…” He managed to grumble out, his voice gruff having just woken up.

“Get your ass in gear. You’ve got shit to do today.” Neil snarled. “You’re seventeen years old. Start fucking acting like it.” He shoved his son before storming off. William could hear the faint sound of chatter, chalking it up to Max and Susan already being awake. He heaved a quiet sigh, dragging his hands down his face. He grabbed the clothes he had worn yesterday, sniffing the fabric. He shrugged, deciding they didn’t smell that bad. He grabbed a quick shower, scrubbing his body, being gentle on the bruises blooming on his arms and ribs. As he buttoned his shirt up, he left plenty of his chest exposed to the world, showing off the pristine muscles he worked hard for. He clamped his suspenders on and adjusted them accordingly. He brushed his golden locks out of his face and styled it quickly as best as he could, knowing he showed his class more than he pleased. It was almost time for him to get a haircut. Though, Susan took his scissors for some reason and had yet to return them. As he stepped out of his room, he stuffed his box of toothpicks into his pocket, walking down the hall of their shitty home to the kitchen. He gave a quiet greeting to his family, avoiding eye contact with his father, though he could feel his father’s cold gaze. A shiver racked his body. He grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee, gulping the dark liquid down and scalding his throat. The warmth in his gut was appreciated as the weather in this shitty town was turning cold. The house groaned against the gusty winds of Indiana. William expected the structure to some day cave in and kill them all.

He kind of hoped for it sometimes.

“Dad, can I go spend today with my friends?” Max asked.

“Maxine, why do you spend so much time with those boys? Don’t you have any girl friends?” Susan asked. William took a deliberate, aggressive bite of toast. He hated that woman’s voice. So ear grating. Her fake smile was enough to send his mind reeling with violent thoughts.

“My friend, Jane. Duh.” Max snapped at her mother.

“Hey! Watch your tone, young lady!” Neil barked, jabbing a finger at Max. Her icy blue eyes glared at her stepfather before getting up to storm off to her room.

Things moved in slow motion for William. He watched his father grab Max’s wrist and yanked her back, pulling a hand back to strike his sister, who stared at Neil in fear, her blue eyes suddenly wide, all fight gone. His little sister whom he promised to protect. William acted. He didn’t even think. He just went for it. He dropped his mug, the ceramic breaking apart upon contact with the floor. William swung a punch, making contact with Neil’s jaw. The older man fell back in his chair, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud, a groan escaping his lips. Adrenaline pumped through William’s veins as he stepped over Neil, grabbing Max’s shoulders and looking in her eyes.

“Maxy, you need to get a bag and go to Janie’s okay? Go.” He ordered. As he pushed her forward, Neil grabbed William by his hair, ripping his head back by the strands.

“Today… Today of all days you swing at me.” Neil growled before throwing his son to the floor. William grunted as he hit the floor, gritting his teeth. His eyes widened as he watched his father’s boot come down on him from his peripheral, stomping down on his back. He cried out before biting his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. Pretty sure something was broken. Definitely broken somewhere. He gasped out before clenching his teeth. Once the boot was gone, William struggled to flip himself on his back. His father took this as an opportunity to grab his son’s shirt, dragging the boy to his feet. His father’s fist struck him like a brick, hard and blinding. The fists didn’t stop. William could see spots in his vision, the room starting to shake and spin. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before focusing. He bared his bloodstained teeth at his father before headbutting him in the nose. While his father stumbled, nursing his now bleeding nose, William bolted for the front door, stumbling dizzily over himself.

William spared a final glance to his home.

House. It wasn’t a home. It never was. 

As the house got further and further, he slowed down before coming to a halt. He saw Max’s head of red hair bolt into the trees. Jane lived in the woods with her dad. He exhaled in relief before continuing to walk down the street, no destination in mind, just away from the monster he called his father.


	2. A New Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is now on his own, injured and distraught, and runs into a friendly stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, the owner and creator of Ginger (aka Anarchy). Thank you for everything <3

William limped onto the main drag of town, the adrenaline waning and the pain starting to sap his energy. He sniffled and stood straight as he looked around the street. With it still being early morning, men and women were still bustling around getting to work or going to the stores to gather any groceries. He let out a pained wheeze as he clutched his left side, his ribs aching. He strode to the drugstore and entered, the small bell tinkling over his head. A few of the patrons looked at him and they could not hide the disgust that came across their faces. He let out a growl that startled a few of the onlookers. He walked over to a shelf, staring blankly. He did not know what he needed to make the pain go away…  
  
“Psst.” He heard. He looked around and his eyes landed on a redheaded man in the corner. He looked dirty, making his eyes seem extra blue. He glanced around before pointing to himself. The man rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah you, dingus.” He waved for William to come closer. This put him on edge but he could probably fuck this guy up in a fight. He walked over to the redhead. “You look _rough_, kid.”  
  
William scoffed, “Thanks. I’m sure you make plenty of friends.” He rolled his eyes.

“Nope.” The man said with a grin that was all teeth and was nearly unsettling. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Don’t call me that.” William snapped. “I’m not a kid.” The man raised an incredulous brow. Okay, maybe the bratty engagement was not helping his case. “William.” He said.   
  


“William, eh? Too formal. I’m callin’ you Billy.” He said, slapping Billy on the shoulder. He actually did not mind the sound of that name. It gave him detachment from his old life. He could start fresh… “I’m Ginger. But my friends call me Anarchy. At least they would if I had any friends.” Billy could not help the laugh that escaped him at that. That was pretty funny actually.

“Okay,  _ Anarchy _ .” Billy said. “So why did you want my attention so bad?” He asked.

“I can tell you got your ass beat and are hurtin’.” He pointed to Billy’s split lip and bruising face. “I can help you get the shit you need. But I need your help to do it.” A smirk spread across Ginger’s face, devilish and sharp.Billy raised a brow before wincing at the stabbing pain in his ribs.

“Alright. I’m in.”

***

Ginger punched Billy in the teeth. None came loose, thank god, but the metallic taste of blood covered his tongue. He stood in front of the store now, glancing in the store window to ensure Ginger was in his place inside. The redhead gave a thumbs up and Billy took a breath. He coughed harshly and violently, it made his ribs feel like they were on the verge of exploding. Blood dripped from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground, gasping and wheezing for air. His body started to tremble violently. Ginger said he had seen another guy do this and it drew a lot of attention. And it sure as hell was working. The patrons in the drugstore including the owner rushed out to help Billy, believing he was dying. His eyes rolled back to really sell it. Until an actual doctor came to the rescue. 

_ ‘Don’t panic. Keep playing along.’ _ Billy thought to himself. The doctor was quick to roll Billy onto his side, holding him firmly but gently. He caught a glimpse of Ginger running out the back entrance of the store with a sack full of things. Billy’s shaking eventually stopped and he “came to”. 

“Are you okay, son?” The doctor asked.

“N-Never better, doc.” He stammered out, sitting up. There were collective sighs of relief from the gathered crowd. Ginger ran over, no longer carrying his bag full of goodies from the store.

“Wow! Thanks, doc! You saved my kid brother!” He cheered and the other bystanders applauded the doctor. While their attention was now on the doctor, Ginger dragged Billy out of the crowd and they made a break for an alley. “Holy shit, kid, you really know how to act!”

“Stop callin’ me, kid!” Billy snapped. “But thanks. I guess.” He grumbled. He wheezed and sank to the ground in the alley, not caring that he was sitting in a puddle of probably someone’s piss. He was really hurting now.

“Ah… Shit…” Ginger crouched down in front of Billy. “Mind tellin’ me what happened? You got parents? Someone to take you to the hospital?” He asked.

“The fuck do you think?” He hissed, though with the amount of pain he was in, his words had no venom. “It hurts.” He murmured, biting back a whimper. He cradled his ribs, starting to tremble. “No. No parents. No hospital.” He shifted uncomfortably while Ginger started to dig in the sack. He grabbed not only medications but also food. “Got into a fight with my old man… Told me to get the fuck out and never come back.” He murmured.

“That makes sense.” Ginger grumbled through gritted teeth. That angered him. Ginger came from a similar background. His parents died while he was still young so he went into his father’s brother’s custody, his uncle. Ginger had a baby sister… He has no idea where she is now. She’d be eighteen by now. The redhead shook his head, focusing on the issue at hand. There was a kid in pain in front of him. “Alright, kid… Let’s get you taken care of.” He pulled out a bottle and stared at the label, mouthing the words to himself as he read. He put it back in the bag and pulled out another one. “Here we go.” He popped the cork and grimaced at the smell. “Guh… I’m sorry in advance.” He read the label to figure out how much to give Billy. He hummed to himself in thought before deciding guesstimating was his best bet. He pinched Billy’s bruising nose, earning a cry of pain. He poured a dose of the medicine down Billy’s throat before forcing his jaw closed, the liquid rolling down the blonde’s throat. He let go of Billy’s nose and the boy coughed harshly, groaning in agony. “That should hopefully kick in soon.” He sat across from Billy, digging through the sack. He pulled out a loaf of bread and broke off pieces for them each to eat. Billy nibbled on the food, just waiting for the pain to dull.

As the painkiller started to do its work, Billy felt tired. He yawned and blinked his eyes, trying to stay awake. Both of the boys had managed to consume half the loaf together.

“Better?” Ginger asked. Billy held up a thumbs up and a small smile. “Good. Listen, there’s an abandoned mail building where I’ve been stayin’. It’s not much but it’s a roof over your head. And with all the papers, we make pretty decent fires to stay warm.” He offered a hand to Billy, which the boy took pretty quickly. Not like he had any where else to go. He helped pull Billy to his feet, earning a grunt from the kid. “How old are you?” He asked.

“Mm… Seventeen.” He said drowsily. 

“Damn, you really are just a kid.” Ginger grumbled. Ginger was 24. He had been on the streets for a while and learned how to get by. Billy stared at Ginger’s face now that he was this close to the other. There were scars that ran through his brow and past his eye. It was kind of cool, in Billy’s opinion. 

“Where’d you get the scar from?” He asked, tilting his head.

“I went to the war.” He said. “Pretty cool, huh?” He could feel his own shoulders were tense. He also noticed how Billy got this  _ look _ . 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“Kid, it’s fine.” He assured. “Come on. Let’s get to my place before people start creepin’ on us.” Billy steadied himself on his feet and nodded. Ginger snatched the bag off the ground and started walking towards the south side of the town. As the main drag of town grew distant, Billy felt a little more at ease, not feeling the stares of concerned passersby any longer. Ginger paused at a mail station that was near an abandoned set of train tracks. “These tracks were shut down when the new ones were places. And this mail room just moved but they left the building.” He rested a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “That’s the east side.” He pointed to the other side of the tracks. “Try to stay off that side. The pompous assholes would gut you in a minute.” He chuckled, patting the boy’s shoulder, walking onto the porch of the desolate post office. 

Upon entering, Billy took in his surroundings. There were, indeed, papers strewn on the floor and empty counters. Some had writing on them, others were too faded to tell. He could catch the faint smell of something having been burnt previously. The windows let in the midday sunlight and warmed the place a little. The post office was about the size of his old house, pretty small but not cramped. Ginger sat down on a crate and gestured for Billy to take a seat on another crate.

“Welcome to the beginning of your new life, Billy.” He flashed a smile at the other. Billy smiled back but could not help the feeling of worry that crept up his spine.


End file.
